Heartbreak
by Siriusly Devoted
Summary: She can't live without him. He doesn't know he loves her. Love bound to result in tragedy. Oneshot. Rated for scenes at the end.


He broke her heart. The day he told her he didn't love her, her heart broke and she knew it would never be fixed. The pain hurt so much she could barely gather the strength to run from him, back to the safety of her dorm. It hurt more knowing that he had let her run, hadn't even watched her turn from him.

Her mind ran through the events leading up to this moment. Over and over it played, like a broken record of images. She had seen it coming, knew that his background and his reputation would never allow such a romance to blossom. It had been beautiful, it had been perfect, and that's exactly why it would never be allowed to continue.

She had fallen for him so hard. Had known since the third month of their tryst that their love was real. She had not mentioned this to him though. Not because she hadn't dared and not because she was afraid she wouldn't hear it back. Deep down she had always known that to admit it would be the end.

However, the end had come without either of them ever uttering the words. The words she had been so certain would be the only reason for their separation. It had been obvious that something had changed, and her desperation grew as she realised that 'I love you' wasn't the only thing that could break them apart.

She hadn't been sure what the change had been. Maybe someone had found out about them; but surely, that did not mean that that person had realised they were in love? Or maybe he had finally realised he loved her. It was about time. Starting from their first kiss in fifth year, that time in the Astronomy Tower when she had been star gazing and he had wanted some solace from the outside world, to now, nearly Christmas in their seventh, it was about bloody time he realised that wanting to shag someone more than once a night every night for eighteen months equated to more than just lust.

But with that realisation, his realisation, came the breakdown of what she had cherished so much. What she never wanted to imagine losing. And now it had happened, and she had been right in knowing what she would feel afterwards.

He had become Head Boy that year. With that stuck up cow, Hermione Granger, as Head Girl. If anyone were to have realised that they were in love, it would have been the too-smart-for-her-own-good Gryffindor. But she would never have said anything, never have ruined something so wonderful. She wouldn't have had the nerve to say anything, nor would she have cared in the first place.

They had been so careful. It had been eighteen blissful months and still no one knew of their passion, the love that permeated through every wall of the castle when they were together. Recently they had begun to talk more than make love, and she had a feeling that this was what had begun to tip him off as to his true feelings for her.

She sighed in despair. She couldn't breathe without him. She knew she needed him, more than she needed air to breathe and the blood coursing through her veins. And she also knew that she would never get him back. The end was the end.

The start of their changing relationship had begun in September, when he no longer shared a dorm with the other boys in his House but had his own separate dorm in another part of the school. The only other person around was Hermione Granger, and they were both too adept at silencing charms, amongst others, for her to have noticed anything outrageously amiss. They have begun to converse about a variety of subjects, and her heart swelled when she thought of how compatible they were, how well they just fit.

But nothing lasts forever. Not even perfection.

It was two days later, two days of hard grieving and non stop crying, that she forced herself to climb out of bed and take a shower. Of course, he had to wait until the Christmas break to end it with her so she would be alone through her pain. Not that she would have been able to talk about it anyway, but the knowledge that nobody was there to help her through it even if she wasn't willing to talk made her heart pang.

There was nobody she could talk to, nobody around to even talk about the weather with. She had never been more alone in her life. But still, she did not blame him for how she felt. She had known what she had been getting herself into. Maybe she had been a tad too optimistic and blind-sighted by the beauty of their union. For that, she could only blame herself.

And so, with a heavy heart, she washed herself carefully. She washed like she was still the love of his life, like it had never been more important that she looked the image of perfection. Afterwards, she looked in the mirror, scrutinising the reflection that stared back at her. Her once bright, alive brown eyes stared back at her, dead and empty. Her attempt at a smile ended in a grimace. She pushed her dark hair back, pinning it with grips to enunciate the angles of her face that made her the beauty she was. She carefully applied a light layer of foundation and a dash of blusher, before working a light smoky look onto her eyes. She finished off with a dab of clear lip gloss on her lips, before she turned to her wardrobe and carefully selected a baby pink camisole and flattering jeans.

She stared at the wall for a second before she tugged on her underwear, allowing her towel to fall to the floor. She carefully hung it back up in the bathroom before returning to her bed to finish her dress.

Not once in the two days she had been holed up in her room had anyone been to check on her, and she _knew_ she had been on the list for people staying that year. Not even Snape had cared enough about her to come see why she had not eaten for over two days. A fleeting smile took over her face for a second as it hit her that she had expected the way she would feel about this too.

Nothing. She felt nothing.

The pain had all gone. But in its place was just an empty space. There was a hole in her heart that could never be fixed. No amount of crying or pretending was ever going to mend that breakage, the one he had so viciously thrust upon her.

She hadn't been surprised to realise he knew what he was doing when he had told her it was over. He was a heartless bastard at the best of times, but he had loved her, if only fleetingly, and that was enough for her. But now it was over.

He came to find her that evening. He hadn't made a mistake, of that he was sure, but he felt some need, some compulsion to check on her.

He knew she loved him. Had known it for some time. He suspected that she had loved him longer, and that had been an important factor that had made his decision for him. This could not continue. They both knew that. He knew she knew that, but she had still fallen in love with him. Stupid girls and that notion of love.

He was certain he held no feelings for her back. Twice he had doubted this fact, but both times he had ignored it by forcing his way into her body and ignoring the emotional attachments. It had been easier the first time.

The final decision came when he realised Christmas involved a lot of romance, and what better way to get rid of her than to break her at Christmas, when everyone else was happily coupled up? He didn't know that he would have broken her heart any day of the year, that she was so deeply in love with him her world revolved around him.

He hadn't meant to be so brutal. He didn't regret it but he hadn't meant to say such things. Hadn't meant to have referred to her as his whore, who he only returned to because his needs needed satisfying at least twice a night and even he had a curfew that would only allow one shag with a girl from another House. He hadn't meant to insult her looks, saying she would have been pretty if she weren't so desperate. Hadn't meant to throw her love right back in her face. He didn't regret it but he certainly didn't mean it.

So, he slowly made his way to her room, an otherwise empty dorm as the other residing girls had gone home for Christmas. He knew she did not get on with her parents which is why she had stayed. Maybe, just maybe, if her relationship with her parents had been better, she wouldn't have ended up in this mess. He pondered this as he meandered his way to her dorm.

Only when he was at the door did a thought emerge that stopped him dead. Why had, for the past two days, his thoughts been fixed on her? The way she smiled when she saw him, her laugh when he said something faintly amusing, the way she never failed to moan his name every time he first touched her, the way her pert tits fit in his hands as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. And, oh god, the way every time he entered her he had to fight not to lose control. She felt so _good_. No one else had ever rivalled her, and it was only now he began to question why.

He knew she had been in love with him. But, had he really been in love with her? Did you really have to lose something to realise how much you wanted it in the first place?

No matter, he shook his head of his thoughts. They could never be, even if his feelings ran deeper that just pure lust.

And with that thought he pushed open the door.

Pansy Parkinson hung there, in the middle of the room, a thick rope choking her neck. An ugly purple bruise was visible on the skin surrounding the rope and her body was limp. Her glossy lips were pale and her face was tinted blue under her foundation. Her beautiful brown eyes were marred by the burst capillaries.

She was an image of beautiful agony.

And that's when his heart finally shattered.


End file.
